26 years later, AIDS activist Francine Coleman remains resilient

When Francine S. Coleman decided to stop using drugs and start getting treatment for her HIV infection close to 26 years ago, she turned inward with self-discipline and spirituality.

But in the years that followed — and more followed than she expected — her focus has been increasingly outward. Her life is centered on her household, son, grandchildren, extended family and the clients she counsels at AIDS Project Worcester. Years have brought new generations to her care, some in the throes of illness, some in prison, some in her home.

The T&G has been checking in with Mrs. Coleman, 60, for 17 years, and recently caught up with her again.

Her days start at 6 a.m. at the home in Rutland that she shares with her husband of 18 years, Larry, great-nephew Christian C. Horton, 18, and her grandson Steven Fernandes Jr., 20. She's out the door at 6:30 to bring Christian to Quabbin Regional High School in Barre, which he attends through school choice, then back home less than an hour later to get ready for her job as a peer mentor at AIDS Project Worcester. Sometime during the course of the morning, she takes two pills to treat HIV, and she'll take another at night. Unlike previous regimens, she doesn't have to worry about scheduling her meals around them.

AIDS Project Worcester's office at 85 Green St. is less than obvious, and visitors enter through a back door off of Plymouth Street. Inside, they can expect a warm reception and a range of services, plus a pharmacy next door that caters to their very specific needs.

“I like coming here, working with my co-workers, because we do work, but we do have a fun time,” Mrs. Coleman said. “You have to have some humor here,” she said, and they've got it. They mourn the loss of the same people and worry over others, but they also crack each other up. One conversation between Mrs. Coleman and her supervisor, Carla Rodriguez, went from solemnity about people who have passed away to giggles over weekend plans and smiles about the singing voice of Mrs. Coleman's husband, Larry.

“It's just a good job here, working with people and listening and having compassion,” Mrs. Coleman said.

Debra G. Geldart, 45, of Millbury, one of Mrs. Coleman's clients, has known her since the mid-'90s. Mrs. Coleman has helped guide her through recovery and through HIV treatments. She is getting married this month, and Mrs. Coleman will be among the guests.

“I actually call her mom,” Ms. Geldart said. “I told her I would adopt her, and I have adopted her in my own world.”

Mrs. Coleman's longevity in the job makes the losses harder. When she joined the agency, she and other HIV-positive people were preparing for death within years. With the advent of improved treatments, she has known some of her clients for more than a decade and has watched them die of cancer or AIDS-related illnesses.

“You think that part of living with HIV and AIDS is over,” she said of the deaths that occurred early in the epidemic. “Now it's everyone's dying again.”

Ms. Rodriguez noted the toll it takes on Mrs. Coleman. “We all experience death and grieving,” she said. “Francine's been connected so long, they're like family members.”

Mrs. Coleman's walls are covered with clients past and present and their families, as well as her own.

Four years ago, AIDS Project Worcester, which is celebrating its 25th anniversary this year, had its largest annual budget ever, but state cuts hit it hard during the last fiscal year. Staff voted unanimously to take pay cuts instead of laying anyone off. The state added money halfway through the fiscal year that let the salaries rise again, said Executive Director Joseph D. McKee.

That means Mrs. Coleman is back to earning something shy of $31,000 a year. She used to work a second job, a long time ago in a halfway house and more recently at a Walmart, but it became too tiring. “I can't stand like I used to,” she said.

Her husband has worked at the Walmart in Leicester for five years and is doing well. “He's soft going. He doesn't say no,” she said.

Mr. Coleman, too, has struggled with addiction, but his last relapse was about eight years ago, Mrs. Coleman said.

In addition to being a wife, Mrs. Coleman is also “Nana” at home to Steven and Christian. Steven moved in after living in Randolph with his mother. He decided not to finish Wachusett Regional High School in Holden and is pursuing a GED.

Christian, 18, Mrs. Coleman's great-nephew, is college bound once he decides which basketball scout he will say yes to. After a standout season for Quabbin Regional High School, he is considering several colleges in Massachusetts and one in Vermont, she said.

Christian knew from a young age that he would come live with Mrs. Coleman during middle school, because his mother, Shanita Glanton, a nurse in New Jersey, didn't want him going to the schools in Trenton. Even after Ms. Glanton moved to a different part of the state, the family decided Christian would finish at Quabbin.

“It's fun,” Christian said. “She doesn't try to act like my mother or anything. She's there for me when she needs to be...

“She's taught me a lot,” he continued. “Surround yourself with good people… She tells me that I can always make it, and I got a lot of good potential…

“She's probably one of the strongest people that I know,” he said. “She's really living day by day, but she's helping people left and right and trying to make their life better instead of hers,” he said. “And she's really not asking for anything in return.”

Mrs. Coleman said Christian's coach, Dennis Dextradeur, has helped the family a lot. “He knows my status, and he's very compassionate, very helpful… I've never met someone like him,” she said. “He worries about me, he calls me Nana. He tells me sometimes, ‘If you're tired in the morning, I'll come and get Christian.' ”

Besides the family that lives with her, Mrs. Coleman's thoughts are with those who cannot be, such as her son, Steven Fernandes, who was sentenced to life in prison on a 1994 murder conviction. Mr. Fernandes was married more than a year ago while in prison, something Mrs. Coleman hadn't expected. But, she said, his bride “is such a wonderful person.” Now both she and her new daughter-in-law are saving money to pay for a lawyer to take his case.

The family has other legal trouble, too. One of Steven's sons, Darryl Mitchell, is awaiting trial on manslaughter charges stemming from an altercation in the Boston area. He had not been in trouble before, Mrs. Coleman said, and the family has not been able to raise the $250,000 bail. “Hopefully something changes that he can come home,” she said. “He's just a good kid.”

Mrs. Coleman's outlook appears to be as resilient as her body. Her HIV has been at undetectable levels for years, and in 2009-2010, she underwent a year of treatment that cured her of hepatitis C. It wasn't pleasant — the medication left her feeling like she had the flu, made her hair fall out and temporarily robbed her of the ability to taste her favorite food, shrimp — but she came out the other side with one less illness to worry about.

She is diligent about her medications and has inspired her clients to be, too. Perhaps it is because the quiet, caring woman sitting across the desk from them in an irreverent T-shirt in a windowless office is living proof that they can cope, too.

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